


PrincessGirl471

by ragingserenity (logologist)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Blindfolds, Breast Torture, Butt Plugs, Choking, Come Shot, Come Swallowing, Consensual Sex, Cowgirl Position, Creampie, Deepthroating, Explicit Consent, F/M, Gags, Handcuffs, He comes on her face, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Pain, Panic Attacks, Rope Bondage, Spanking, Spitroasting, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Vibrators, and in her mouth, and on her body, breast bondage, clarke is processing shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logologist/pseuds/ragingserenity
Summary: He just looks at her instead of answering. Locking eyes, he stays silent for a minute, and he can see the gears in her head turning. Can see her start to get scared, because she has no idea what he’s gonna say, what he’s here for. Like so many people, Clarke Griffin is absolutely shitty at handling silent stares.“Look, just get out with–”“PrincessGirl471.”
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131
Collections: The 100 Kinkmeme Flash Round 2019





	1. I Know Who You Are, Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Clarke loves putting on a show in random video chatrooms and watching guys get off. She doesn’t show her whole face and sometimes even gets guys willing to pay her for more cam time. Unfortunately, she matches with her apartment landlord/super who recognized her mole and video background. Cue blackmail and sexy times.
> 
> Bonus if Mr. Landlord makes Clarke have sex with him on video (whether personal use or online in chatrooms).

Roan can barely believe his eyes. He blinks a few times, as if that would change the image on his screen. He took a couple of screen grabs almost on instinct, and now he’s watching the show, dirty ideas and plans swirling through his head. The blonde on screen leans forward, her big naked tits bracketed by her arms that push them up and into the camera.

“Aaaaand that’s a wrap, guys,” she says cheerfully. The lower half of her face is somewhat visible, displaying her toothy grin and the little mole on her upper lip. “I gotta go. A big thanks to BellBoy and RealSurferDude69 for your usual big tips!” She pauses, a finger on her lower lip for a second, then adds, “And a big welcome and thanks to KingOfTheHill111 for his first time around _and_ a generous tip!” She waves at the camera. “Bye!”

The screen goes black, and the website automatically minimizes the player. Roan is still somewhat shell shocked. He’d been looking for a cute, young, barely legal girl who’d strip off and maybe finger herself for him to get himself off to quickly, but what he found was so much better. He clicks around the website a little more, pulling up the girl’s profile, taking a few more screen grabs just because he can. He knows he doesn’t really need it. He knew it was her as soon as he saw her tits and her smile. He was absolutely sure when he heard her talk the first time.

His mind is going a million miles a minute, hatching his plan, considering contingencies. Grinning to himself, he gets up, pulls a pair of gym shorts and a tank top over his naked body, grabs his toy bag, slips into his flip flops, and makes his way upstairs.

He knocks at the door to 3E, waiting only a little while before she opens, wearing a fluffy white robe that goes down past her knees, cinched up tight at the front. It almost succeeds at hiding her impressive chest. Her brow is furrowed a little bit, though she still smiles politely up at him. “Roan, hi. Is there a problem?”

It’s a little sad, really, that that’s her reaction to seeing him, but then he usually only contacts her if something is actually wrong. Virtue of being the landlord, building manager, _and_ handyman in one person.

He smiles back. “Well, I don’t know if it’s a problem, but I do have something I have to discuss with you.”

She bites her lip, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Can it wait? I’m in the middle of something.”

 _I’m sure you are,_ he thinks. _Probably in the middle of getting yourself off after teasing guys on the Internet with your tits._ What he says, is, “I’m afraid it’s urgent.”

She tilts her head, surely weighing her options. Then she steps aside, gesturing for him to enter. _Bet you’re hoping to get me out again quickly._

“Have a seat,” she says, gesturing to the couch. “Do you want something to drink?”

He sits, careful to set his black duffel down without making noise, shifting it so it’s mostly hidden by the coffee table, while she’s moving toward the kitchen area. “Some water would be great, thanks.”

She joins him a minute later, passing him a glass of ice water, and sits down in an easy chair across from him. “So, what’s this urgency?”

He just looks at her instead of answering. Locking eyes, he stays silent for a minute, and he can see the gears in her head turning. Can see her start to get scared, because she has no idea what he’s gonna say, what he’s here for. Like so many people, Clarke Griffin is absolutely shitty at handling silent stares.

“Look, just get out with–”

“PrincessGirl471.”

Her mouth is gaping wide open, her eyes as big as saucers. He’s got her. He knows it, and she knows it.

She closes her mouth, swallows hard. Takes a sip of water. “What… what do you want?”

Straight to the point. He allows himself a smirk. “What do _you_ want, Clarke?” he asks in return. He doesn’t actually give her time to answer though. “I think you want to keep your little… _escapades_ secret, am I right? It wouldn’t do at all for anyone to find out that the daughter of a senator shows her tits on the Internet for a buck a minute.”

She flushes scarlet. She knows he hardly needs proof, just the implication, posted on a few sleazy news sites, would be enough to be trouble. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just… just don’t tell anyone.”

He grins now. “I was hoping you would say that.” He takes a swig of his water, then leans back, casually sliding a hand into his shorts to fist his hardening cock. “Strip.”

Clarke looks at him for an uncertain moment. He can see the struggle in her eyes. She knows he’s seen her on camera or he wouldn’t know – so on some level she must’ve known that he would probably ask this of her when she made the “offer”. Still, being confronted with the choice now, she hesitates. He squeezes his dick, almost fully hard already. He barks, “Now, Princess. I don’t have all day.”

His rough words jolt her into action. Clarke stands, tugs open the belt of her robe, and then lets the whole thing slide off of her shoulders. Roan blinks. She’s absolutely, not-a-stitch, naked, standing just three feet away from him. Her tits, the ones he’d seen just minutes before on his computer screen, are right there, out in the open now, big and heavy and _perfect_. Her face is almost comically red, as if she wasn’t just showing those tits to about ten guys in the chat room for money.

“Very nice, _Princess_ ,” he says, and he means the compliment. He also loves how the pet name makes her flinch, reminds her of the power he has over her. He raises his free hand, spins his index finger in a circle. She understands, and, raising her arms over her head, spins around, slowly, showing off her ass to him. “Such a good girl.”

If at all possible, she seems to be blushing even more at the praise. Facing him again, she crosses her arms over her stomach, some weird and pointless compromise between trying to cover herself and _not_ doing it. She glances down at her robe, then back at him.

He shakes his head, leans forward. “What do you think is going to happen here, now?”

She bites her lip, furrows her brow, hard. “You…” She sucks in a stuttering breath. _Fuck_. Are those tears glistening in her eyes? She looks straight at him, lets go of her lip. “You’re going to fuck me.”

He smiles. “That’s right. I’m going to _fuck_ you, Princess. Hard. And you’re going to beg me for it.” She whimpers, a tear spilling out, running down her cheek. “And do you know why?” She shakes her head, just a little bit. “Because you’re a whore, Clarke,” he says. It’s going to be the last time he’s going to say her name. “You’re a whore, who gets naked for guys on the Internet. You were asking for this. For one of them to come and _take_ you.” Her lip trembles, more tears skating down her cheeks, dripping off her jaw, onto her tits. “Now you got your wish.” He finishes his water, eyes always on her. “Turn around.”

He unzips his bag when she’s fully turned around. He can see the little jerk in her shoulders at the sound, knows she wants to turn back and see what he’s doing. That she doesn’t just shows how scared she is of him, of what he might do to her if she disobeys. Grabbing a coil of rope from his bag, he stands, and quickly moves behind her.

She yelps when he grabs her elbows and pulls them together behind her back. They almost touch with next to no effort on his part. “You do a lot of yoga, Princess?” he comments even as he uncoils the rope and starts wrapping it around her arms, welding her elbows together with less than an inch between them. She winces when he cinches the ropes, and her shoulders hitch every now and then with a suppressed sob, but she stays remarkably quiet and controlled.

“Good girl,” he praises again. “Not many girls who can take their elbows tied like that.” He grabs her shoulders and spins her around to face him. His chin nearly hits the floor when he sees her tits, thrust up and out by the strain on her elbows and shoulders. “Oh, wow!”

Clarke whimpers again. Her breasts are almost shiny with tears already. Roan can’t resist reaching up to palm them in his big, calloused hands, feeling the weight of her soft flesh. He thumbs her nipples, wrenching a sobbed moan from her throat. “Oh, you like this, don’t you, whore?” She sobs more, making him smirk. “On your knees, Princess.”

She complies quickly, strangely gracefully even with her arms flailing uselessly behind her. He waits until she looks up at him again before he drops his shorts, drinking in the way her eyes widen in fear as she beholds his hard cock. Her mouth opens and closes a few times. Surely she knows what he wants, but apparently she can’t quite comprehend it, or at least can’t make herself do anything.

“Suck it,” he commands, reaching down and tangling both hands in her hair. “Suck it good, Princess.”

Finally breaking out of her shock, Clarke rises up a little and opens her mouth, stretching her lips around the tip of his cock. Her eyes widen even more when she realizes just how fucking big he is, and she almost pulls back, but he doesn’t let her. Instead, he roughly yanks her head forward, forcing half of his cock into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat. She gives a muffed shout, then gags. Her arms wave wildly behind her back, and she even seems to be trying to get back on her feet, but he doesn’t let up. Only when her gagging gets more violent does he pull back, just an inch, leaving her still with a mouthful of hard cock. She settles down then, and looks up at him again, brows furrowed deeply, eyes wide and shining with tears.

“Be a good little whore now, Princess,” he says. “Suck my cock.”

This time, Clarke moves down his cock of her own accord. Slowly, she takes him to the back of her throat, then quickly back up to the tip. Down again. She settles into a rhythm, and Roan quickly feels his juices rising, between the tightness of her lips and the suction and her expression. He lets her take him to the brink and beyond, spilling half his load onto her tongue before he pulls out, shooting the rest of it all over her face. She cries out when a shot hits her forehead, and immediately gags and chokes on the cum in her mouth as he fires more, covering her face.

He grins down at her as she coughs and sputters, grimacing as she clearly tries to think of a way to get his cum off her face quickly and not coming up with anything. Her left eye is shut, a string of cum stretching from her forehead down across her eye and to her upper lip. He picks up his phone and opens the camera app. “Look at me, Princess,” he says, and snaps a picture when she does.

“No, please!” she begs.

“Oh yes,” he replies. “I’ll take all the fucking pictures of you that I want. With your pretty whore face covered in my cum. Taking my cock in your ass.”

“Noooo,” she wails, fresh tears falling from her eyes.

He captures that, too, then starts to wipe the cum off her face with his fingers, feeding it to her. She hesitates only a second before she sucks it from his fingers, grimacing as she swallows.

“Now that’s a good girl.” He grabs her chin. “Up, now.”

When she stands, he turns her around again, facing away from him. “Stay,” he commands, going back to his bag to pick out a few more items.

“You’ve been a good girl so far, Princess,” he says, stroking her hair. “And good girls get rewarded.” She whimpers. He’s not sure if it’s relief because she thinks he’s going to let her go now, or because she’s picturing another “reward”. His fingers tangle in her hair now, yanking a little. “But you’re also a whore. And whores love nothing more than to get fucked. Right?” She whimpers again. “Right, whore?”

She manages to blubber out something that sounds like, “Yes, Sir.”

He lets her hair go and trails his hand down her back to her ass, cupping and squeezing the firm flesh. “Some whores even like it in their ass. Don’t they?”

“Noooo,” is her reply, accompanied by a sob.

“Yes, they do,” he says. “But you’ve been good, so I won’t fuck your ass.” He squeezes it again, hard, then pulls back and spanks her ass, grinning as he sees it jiggle. “Not today, anyway.”

As she starts to protest again, he brings his other hand up, and as her mouth opens, he crams the ball gag he’s been holding inside. She lets out a surprised, muffled yell, and chokes not a second later when he forces the large ball in as deep as it goes. Her arms start to flail again as he does up the strap, pinning her hair down underneath it. Reaching around her, he gropes her tits, pulling her into him, and just waits until she’s done gagging. It takes a minute, but finally she calms down, taking heaving breaths through her nose. Tears are rolling down her cheeks constantly now, and she looks back at him with fear in her eyes.

“Good girl,” he says. “Taking that gag so well. Like a good little whore.” He lets her go and points at the easy chair she’d been sitting in just a few minutes ago. “Get up there, on your knees.”

She follows his order, resting her cheek on the back of the chair.

He strokes her hair. “I’m going to fuck you now.” She whimpers, shakes her head almost imperceptibly. “Yes, I will,” he replies. “You don’t want me to tell anyone about your whoring on the Internet, right?”

She shakes her head again, harder. “Peef, oooo!”

“Then you’re going to be a good little girl and let me fuck your cunt. Right?”

She sobs, but nods. “Ef, fir.”

“Good girl.”

His cock never really softened after he came, and it’s certainly at full hardness now. Getting in position behind her, he lines his tip up to her cunt and sinks into her in a single stroke.

Clarke screams, muffled by the ball gag in her mouth, and Roan groans loudly. “Fuck, Princess, you’re – unh – so fucking _tight_.” He pulls out, almost all the way, then slams back in again. Clarke screams again, but less, and over the next few strokes, she quiets down to muffled moaning and sobbing. At some point, Roan grabs her flailing arms and pins her wrists to the small of her back in one of his large hands, delivering spanks to her ass with the other. She yelps a little, moans a lot, but keeps her head down and takes the fucking he gives her.

Having cum just minutes ago, he knows he can go a while. But given how easily he slid into Clarke, he knows how fucking turned on she is by all of this. Letting up on the spanking and her wrists, he seizes her elbow bonds instead and pulls her up, making her lean back against him. It changes the angle of his penetration, making her moan out loudly. His hands find her tits and squeeze them roughly, then pinch and pull and twist her nipples, tearing groans and muffled words from her throat. Some of them sounds suspiciously like, “Fuck, yes!”

“You like that, Princess? Hm?” He slaps her tits hard. “You like me fucking your tight little cunt, mauling your fucking huge tits?” He digs his fingernails into her nipples, making her scream out. “You like that I can do whatever I want to you and you can’t do a fucking thing to stop me? You like that you can’t even speak?”

Whether it’s the continued fucking or the treatment of her tits or his filthy words, or maybe all of those things together, he doesn’t know. What he does know is that Clarke comes, explosively. She screams, barely even muffled by the gag, her whole body shaking as her cunt squeezes his dick tighter than a vise. He stills, lets her ride it out, holding himself back. When she’s done, he pulls out, and turns her over, so she’s sprawled awkwardly across the chair, tits thrust skyward, one foot on the floor, the other hanging over the armrest. Her chest is heaving, her eyes wide and tear-filled. Roan smirks, fisting his cock. His other hand is holding his phone again.

“Say ‘Hi’ to the camera, Princess,” he says, grinning.

“Peef, oooo!”

“Clarke Griffin, ladies and gentlemen,” he continues, “Princess and whore extraordinaire.” He grunts, aims, and fires another full load at her naked body. Cum streaks across her skin from just above her cunt all the way up to her throat. Clarke sobs into her gag.

He leaves her in place for a minute, going to the kitchen to have a glass of water. He returns with another for her, helps her stand, and unties the elbow ropes. She cries when they fall away, hiccuping with sobs. He waits a minute for her shoulders to stop shaking before he removes the gag, and Clarke gags and retches more when it comes out. She doesn’t throw up, though, and it makes him strangely proud of her.

“Clean yourself up,” he says, “then you can have a drink, too.”

He watches, smirking, as she wipes all of his cum off her body and sucks it off her fingers. Her brows are furrowed and her eyes squeezes almost shut every time she swallows, and it’s enough to make his dick twitch again. Finally she’s done, and he hands her the cup. She downs it in an instant.

Picking up the rope, he tosses it and the gag back into his bag, along with his phone, and zips it up. Then, finally, he pulls his shorts back on.

“You’ve been a very good girl, Princess,” he says. Her shoulders sag with relief, even as another sob breaks out of her throat. “I don’t think I need to tell anyone what you’ve been up to.” Lifting his bag, he turns to leave. At the door, he looks back over his shoulder at her. “You have another show tomorrow, right?”

She looks at him with wide eyes.

“Let me rephrase that.” He gives her a hard look. “You have another show tomorrow, PrincessGirl471.”

Clarke sobs again as he reaches for the knob, but she doesn’t refuse him.

“Until tomorrow, Princess.”


	2. Do As I Tell You

Roan visits her again the next morning. He’s had to remind himself not to find some nice porn to jack off to in the bathroom, but he’s sure that waiting will make it all the more satisfying.

Clarke’s lip trembles the second she opens the door, but she still allows him inside her apartment. He can’t help the grin that spreads on his face – the nervous energy radiating from her gives him an almost heady rush.

He briskly informs her that she’ll do a session in the evening, and that she’d better accept his private chat request when it comes – and to do whatever he tells her through that, when he does. Her breath hitches a little, but she gives him a curt nod. Well, at least she seems sensible enough to know what’s good for her.

His day drags on – mostly paperwork and running after a couple of his tenants that are late on the rent. However, every time he gets annoyed, he just has to think of what he’s going to make Clarke do later, and it cheers him right back up. The only problem is going to be deciding what he can squeeze into the half hour he’s planning to have her session go.

It’s almost time when he plops down into his desk chair and pulls up the cam site. He’s kept his jeans and t-shirt on, though he does pop the button and open the fly to give himself a little breathing room.

Right on time, the little camera icon near Clarke’s profile comes on, and he clicks it and pays the entry fee. Clarke’s picture comes through a second later: she’s kneeling in front of the camera, likely her laptop, clad in a silky off-white robe with pink trim, the sash cinched loosely around her waist. He wonders if she threw out the fluffy white one she had worn the day before.

As her apparent regulars also pop into the show – he recognizes BellBoy and RealSurferDude69 – he quickly opens a private chat with her. He watches her twitch, then her hands reach for the touchpad and a second later, his request is approved. _Good girl_.

“Hey guys!” she chirps. “How are you all doing?”

Meaningless chatter follows on the public chat. Roan zones it out and decides on an approach.

**Remove the tie from your robe.**

Clarke hesitates again, then smiles at the camera. “So, guys, how desperate have you been to see me?” As she talks, her hands slide to her waist and start to untie the sash. He’s got to give it to her – she’s a good actress, and quick enough to fold his command into her show.

“That bad, huh?” The knot is now undone, and she carefully tugs the tie out of the flimsy little loops of the robe. Following his command to the letter, even more so than he thought about it himself. _A natural submissive._

He licks his lips. “Let’s see how eager you are to please…”

**Tell them you’ve been wondering about getting tied up.**

**And make it sexy.**

Clarke’s tongue sneaks out and wets her lips. She slowly wraps the sash around her right palm. “Uh-huh, yeah, BellBoy,” she says. “I know, right?” She’s got half of it wrapped up around her hand, and now starts to wrap her left hand up in the rest, all in plain view of the camera. “I’ve been thinking… lately, I’ve been really into bondage videos, you know what I mean? Where the girl gets tied to the bed and ravished by a big, hard dick?” Her hands meet now, sash wrapped around her palms, closed into fists. She brings them up to her chin as if she’s praying weirdly. “Uh, fuck. Gets me all wet.” She shakes her shoulders, making her tits shake a little bit between her upper arms. “Too bad I don’t have anyone to tie me up and give it to me good and hard.”

Roan groans. Fuck. Does she ever. He wonders how much of what she’s saying now is just acting, her trying to predict what he’ll want to hear, and how much of that is her genuine submissive nature. She _was_ awfully quick to follow his orders, both yesterday and now. Nobody’s that good an actor.

He switches over to the public chat for a second, typing, **Are your little panties all ruined, Princess?**

Clarke moans. “Fuck yeah, they’re fucking soaked right now.”

The chat erupts with demands to show them, and Roan goes back to the private one. **Don’t show them yet. Squeeze your tits over the robe a bit first.**

**And keep your hands wrapped.**

Clarke rolls her neck, letting her hair fall over her right shoulder, and unwraps just one pass from around her hands so that she can put both of her hands onto her tits easily. “Mhm, fuck,” she breathes. Her thumbs find her nipples and rub back and forth over them quickly. “I love having my boobies squeezed.”

**Time for a bit more cleavage.**

She keeps squeezing for a bit more, then smoothly draws her hands up to her collarbones and draws the robe apart, slowly. It moves as if it’s sticking to her skin, reluctantly, and only just as much as she seems to want it to. She leaves it covering her nipples, but splits it open down past her belly button, to the point where a hint of pink lace peeks out. Roan licks his lips. Clarke grabs first her left tit, robe over it, in her hand; then, pushing it to the middle, she grabs her right tit in the same way and brings them together, creating a magnificent display.

There’s been a few chimes on her end, but now there’s a small cacophony.

“Aw, thanks, guys!”

Roan drops a decent tip himself, just to keep up appearances.

“Aw, Bell, do you miss my boobies so badly?”

Frowning, he switches to the public chat, where BellBoy just asked her to take the robe off entirely.

 **Yeah,** he writes into the public chat, **please show us your gift.**

“I don’t know, guys.” She makes a show of tossing her head this way and that. “Are you sure you’ve earned them yet?”

Roan can only shake his head at the shower of tips that comes in now. She’s got them all wrapped around her finger. And it’s not even like she needs the money. He adds another contribution of his own to the pool.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” she says, smiling. “Let’s see if I can do it with my little hands all tied up!”

He snorts. All tied up. _I’m gonna show her all tied up._

She wiggles her shoulders, reaches up with both hands to the left, then the right, pushing the robe off. Once it’s off her shoulders, gravity takes over and drags it away from her skin, suddenly revealing her massive tits. Wrapping the slack of the sash back around her hands, she brings them together between her tits, lifting them on her forearms.

“Fuck, I’m all wet now, guys.”

Roan moves back to the private chat. **Take off your panties and show them all how ruined they are.** He waits a second. **Then put them in your mouth.**

Clarke squirms side to side as the public chat pings with comments – no doubt all of them either asking her to finger herself or offering themselves up for a fuck. As if any of them were man enough to show her her place.

**Hurry up, Princess. After that, I want you to rub yourself, just don’t let them see your pussy. You’ll pretend to cum really quickly, and then end the show.**

Clarke moans and hugs her tits for a second, then slides her hands down to her crotch. “My little panties are soooo soaked,” she coos. “Do you guys wanna see?” Pings tumble over pings. “How badly do you wanna see?” Chimes. A minute long. Roan rolls his eyes. “Mhmmm…”

Somehow, even watching her he’s not quite sure how, she shimmies her panties over her ass and down her legs without getting up, all while thrusting her ass out behind her and leaning her chest forward. Although, the way that shakes her tits right into the camera might be distraction enough that nobody really cares to pay attention to how exactly she’s removing her underwear.

“Can you see this?” She holds them right up into the camera, turned inside out. There’s semi-white girl cum smeared all over it. “So fucking wet…” She turns them back, then folds them up into a ball. “I think my neighbors are home, so I gotta make sure I don’t get too loud today.” With that, and accompanied by typed cheering, she pushes the little square into her mouth. “Mmmhm,” she moans. As if that little bit of cloth could really silence her.

Her hands slide down again, past her tits, and disappear into the valley between her thighs. She lifts up a little bit onto her knees and leans forward, presenting her tits to the camera. Bracketed by her upper arms like they are, they take up a significant portion of the screen, undulating a little from the motion of her arms. Roan can barely tell what she’s doing with her hands, which is what he wanted. Her mouth is just barely in the picture, a tiny scrap of lace poking out from between her lips. Her rips start to move, and the shaking of her tits intensifies as her hands pick up speed, and not a minute later she lets out a series of little squeals, her whole body shaking.

Tips still come flying in even as she pulls her hands from her cunt, plucks the panties from her mouth and slowly unwinds her hands. She pants a little, for effect, surely, and smiles. “Thank you so much, guys! This was a great show, I hope you had as much fun as I!”

**You’re done for now. See you soon.**

She closed the session not a minute later, with a promise to have another one soon. As soon as the video goes black, Roan grabs his toy bag along with his copy of her apartment key and makes for the stairs.

* * *

He’s inside and has the door locked before she’s even had a chance to really get out of her bedroom. He’s halfway through the living room when she comes to face him, silk robe back up and covering her tits as if that made a fucking difference.

“Happy now?” she snaps. “I’ve done what you asked, you got your fun. Get out, or–”

“Or what? You’ll call the cops?” He keeps moving until he’s towering over her. He drops the toy bag next to her. “You seem to be misunderstanding the situation, _Princess_. If you think fucking you once was all I wanted… man, I thought even a dumb blondie like you was smarter than that.” He crowds her into the door jamb, placing his large hands right next to her head on either side, and leans down until there’s barely an inch between their noses. “I’m going to have you whenever and however I fucking please. That’s it. End of story. You call the cops? I leak your secret. You run away? I leak your secret. And then you’ll have to live with the fact that your sleazy, selfish ass ruined your daddy’s career. Not to mention that your parents would probably never speak to you ever again. Do you want that?”

Clarke’s lip trembles. “P-please, no. I… I…”

He shakes his head. “You’re so pathetic. You’re just lucky that you’ve got a great pair of tits and a tight, wet cunt or you wouldn’t be good for anything.”

His heart beats faster at the sight of her eyebrows pulling together and the fresh tears glistening in her eyes. His cock is so hard it almost breaks his zipper.

With just a snarl, he grabs her by the shoulders and spins her around. She barely manages a squeak before he’s seized the robe and pulled it right off her body. The little slut hasn’t even put her panties back on. Good. He twists the flimsy cloth into a thick rope and slips it around her neck, pulling her back against him. Clarke’s hands fly up to pull it away, but she’s no match for his strength even under better circumstances. He watches her panic, eyes widen, fingers sinking into the fabric she’d just worn with the intent to protect herself from his eyes, now used to control her.

She chokes out a few sounds, but Roan only tightens his grip. Only when she starts gasping for breath, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, does he let up. Clarke draws in a few large gulps, then Roan takes the center of the twisted up robe and pushes it right into her mouth. And keeps pushing until her cheeks bulge out, then wraps the rest around the back of her head and ties it off with a quick knot. She reaches up to pull it out, but he intercepts her hands and pulls them behind her back. She moans, stamping her foot, but he still barely has any trouble holding her wrists in one hand while he bends down to fish a pair of steel handcuffs – the good, police quality ones – from his bag. She moans again when he locks them on her, but can’t really do anything to prevent it.

Pushing her against the wall again, making sure to squash her tits, he leans down next to her ear. “What was it you said earlier? ‘All tied up?’”

He smacks her ass hard. Clarke howls into the gag.

“As dumb as you are, you’re one hell of an actress, I have to give you that. Either you lied your ass off to those saps on the internet, telling them that you like this, or you’re lying to me, pretending that you don’t want me to take you when you actually really do.” He reaches down and squeezes her ass cheeks hard in his hands. “Which one is it, huh?”

She’s crying, tears soaking into the robe, and with the side of her face against the wall, she’s all out of ways to respond even if she wanted to.

“Let’s go, Princess.”

A couple minutes later, he’s got her kneeling on her bed, head on a pillow, looking right at his phone’s camera. He’s shucked off his clothes and hits record before he walks into the picture, fisting his hard cock. “Clarke Griffin,” he narrates, palming her ass as he gets on the bed behind her, “also known on the net as PrincessGirl471. Not the smartest one, but she’s got one sweet little pussy. Mhm.”

Clarke hasn’t really stopped crying, though when he slides his cock easily into her drenched pussy, a fresh wave of tears spills from her eyes. Her hands jerk helplessly in the cuffs.

“Mhm, fuck, Princess. So tight for me.” He picks up speed quickly, slamming into her from behind. “You love this, don’t you?”

She makes a feeble attempt to shake her head, but stops quickly when he slaps her ass hard. When he grabs the cuffs and yanks her arms back, she screams.

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. You love this. You love being my little fucktoy. It’s what you were made to be. Your pussy is fucking soaked. Hell, it’s trying to keep my cock in there, I swear. Your cunt knows what’s up. It knows what you truly are.” He slows, leans forward, growling into her ear, “A _whore_.”

He straightens up again and fucks her harder, faster. At one point he grabs her elbows and pulls them together behind her back, causing her to cry out in pain again, even as her pussy tightens around him. He pulls her up by her arms a little, just enough to lift her shoulders off the bed. Her tits swing wildly from the force of his thrusts now, and her pussy constantly flutters around him.

“Are you cumming, Princess? Are you getting off on this after all, huh?”

Clarke shakes her head feebly, but then she lets out a long moan around her gag when snakes a hand to her clit and rubs it fast.

“You are, you dirty whore. Keep lying to yourself if you want, but you better not lie to me anymore.”

After a few more thrusts, Roan pulls out and shoves her onto her side, tits facing the camera. He kneels above her, jacking his cock, and then he cums, shooting ropes of white all over her chest and up to her chin.

“Mmmhmm…” He gives her ass a couple more smacks, then leaves to use her bathroom. When he comes back, she’s still where he left her, quietly sobbing into her gag.

“And this is how you fuck a whore,” Roan says to the camera, ending the recording. He puts his clothes back on, pockets his phone, and only then unlocks the cuffs. He watches as Clarke gingerly pulls the soaked robe out of her mouth. She’s fighting her gag reflex a few times, the sounds going straight to his cock.

“What do you say, Princess?” he asks when she’s finally got it all out.

Clarke looks up at him with bloodshot eyes, chest streaked with cum, the twisted robe resting in her hands like she doesn’t quite know what to do with it. Or herself.

“What. Do we. Say.”

She swallows. Closes her eyes. Takes a deep breath. “Th… thank you, Sir.”

“Atta whore.”

Her shoulders twitch.

He picks up his bag. “Until next time, Princess.”


	3. Let's Show Them a Good Time

“You want me to do _what_?” Clarke whisper-hisses, looking up at Roan.

He grins down at her, having boxed her into the corner of the laundry room beside the row of washer/dryer combo stacks. “Simple. You’ll do a show with me as your guest… star, of sorts.”

Her jaw ticks, and she frowns. “Why?”

“Does it really matter?”

“I wanna know.”

“Too bad. Announce it, but keep it vague. If you use my name…”

“I know. You’ll blow up my life.”

He reaches out and strokes her cheek. “Glad we understand each other, _Princess_.”

* * *

A couple days later, on a Saturday afternoon, Roan stands in Clarke’s bedroom once again. His toy bag is safely out of sight of her laptop’s webcam, while Clarke herself sits in front of it, preparing to start her show. Or, his show, really.

“You still haven’t told me what we’ll be doing.”

“Simple. I’m gonna tie you up. And then I’m gonna play with you.”

Clarke turns around, folding her arms across her chest. While the motion covers her tits a little more than the sheer lacy white babydoll nightie she’s got on, there’s simply _too much_ there for her to effectively hide it from his eyes. Not that he hasn’t seen them before, and in all their bare glory.

“What the _fuck_ is it with you and tying me up?”

“I like it,” he answers, shrugging. “Not much more to it.” He grins. “And from the way you come when I tie you up, I’m pretty sure you like it, too.”

Clarke huffs. “I fucking hate it.”

“Sure, whatever you need to tell yourself, Princess.” He grabs a pair of handcuffs and a medium sized black ballgag. “You ready to go or what?”

“Yes. _Sir_.”

A few minutes later, at the announced time, she starts the show, while Roan keeps himself off screen. A few dozen watchers show up quickly, and she greets them in a sickeningly sweet, bubbly tone. Roans hand tightens around the cuffs.

“So, if you remember from last time, I said I was getting a little into bondage?” She claps her hands together. “I found a dom who’s agreed to… show me the ropes.” Giggle. “And… I might let you guys watch our first play session. What do you say, interested?”

Roan rolls his eyes as the tips start flowing in. The chimes coming from her laptop speakers make a cacophony.

She lets the tipping go on for a few minutes, and there’s barely a pause. Finally, she claps her hands again, grinning. “I can see you guys are really excited about this! Me too! So what do you say we get started?” Not waiting, she turns to Roan. “You wanna introduce yourself?”

Roan steps into the picture, standing behind her shoulder while she kneels on the bed, but doesn’t say anything.

“This is Roy,” she continues as if he hadn’t just stonewalled her. “He’s a little camera shy, I’m afraid… But I know he’s going to show this bad girl what she deserves. You wanna see it?”

Roan waits a moment for the inevitable tips to start flowing again, then he brings the handcuffs out into view.

“Hm, where do you want my hands, Sir?” She puts her wrists together between her tits. “Here?” Then she spins in place and crosses them in the small of her back. “Or here?”

Roan makes a noise deep in his throat and gives her shoulder a shove, nearly toppling her over. A moment later he’s seized and slapped a cuff around her right wrist. While he’s pulling that one up in an imitation police hold, he snatches her left wrist and closes the other cuff around it, then tightens both down until they sit snugly around her skin.

“Mmhm,” Clarke moans. “Those handcuffs are really tight around my little wrists.” She gives them an experimental shake. “I’m not getting out of these.”

Grabbing the back of her neck, Roan ignores her gasp of surprise when he pushes her face down into the mattress. Her wrists twist automatically yet futilely. Using her momentary disorientation, he rears his hand back and brings it down hard on her exposed right ass cheek.

Clarke shrieks from the impact, but covers it quickly with a moan. “Oooh, yes, Sir. Spank this naughty girl.”

Face safely off screen still, Roan rolls his eyes and repeats the motion, striking her left cheek. Clarke starts to squirm – while he’s hitting hard, he’s doing so in a way that doesn’t make a lot of sound, so her viewers don’t really know yet that her ass will be sore for days after this.

Clarke squeaks and moans, losing control of her act quickly under his assault. Roan counts silently in his head to thirty strikes, then gives her a break. To her credit, she’s not crying, but her ass is glowing red and she’s panting.

“Ooooh, fuuuuck,” she moans. “My poor little ass is on fiiiiireeeeee.”

The screen is too far away for Roan to really be able to tell what people are typing in the chat, but now that he’s not focused on painting her ass with his hand, he can hear the stream of tips still flowing in. Making a mental note to ‘raise her rent,’ he pulls the gag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of her face.

Clarke angles her lower face a little more towards the camera and pouts. “Aw, no, Sir… am I making too much noise?”

He pulls her back up onto her knees – she lets out a hiss as her ass cheeks touch her heels – and spins her around to face the camera. After making sure that her mouth is visible, he pulls her chin down to open her mouth and pops the black ball into her mouth. It goes behind her teeth much, much easier than the big red one did, and even as he tightens the strap to the last hole, he’s pretty sure Clarke could pop it out without too much trouble if she wanted to. Which, he’s sure she actually does, but knows better than to try.

Clarke closes her lips around the gag, and the ball almost vanishes completely in her mouth. “Mmmmhhhmmm…”

Then she shrieks around the gag when he grabs her flimsy little nightie between her tits and tears it apart in one fluid motion, drawing the tatters over her shoulders. Her tits don’t stay bare and exposed for long, though, as his hands descend on them right away. Clarke sighs as he cups them, flicks his thumbs over her nipples. Those sighs turn to groans when he squeezes them, turning louder the more pressure he applies.

Roan revels in the softness of her tits, mauling and mashing them together. The groans that spill out of her mouth around her gag are not bad either, though he’d definitely prefer to stuff that mouth of hers better. Oh well. The only reason he decided on the smaller gag is that it’s easier to sell as a first time experience – and for all the humiliation he wants to make her endure, not drawing too much attention to himself is pretty important. A tight line to walk.

After a few minutes, during which Clarke fights the handcuffs but gets nowhere, he lets go of her tits and trails his hands south. She goes with the flow, arching her back, then thrusting her hips forward, pushing her cunt into his hand as it reaches its destination. She hums behind her gag, only to squeak again when he easily dispatches her lacy thong the same way he did with her top. He tosses it aside, then spreads her pussy lips apart with his fingers. The screen of her laptop may be a little too far away for him to be able to tell what people are writing in the chat, but it’s close enough to see that her cunt is fucking _glistening_ with juices. He dips two fingers down to her opening, scoops up a healthy amount of it, and drags it up to her clit.

Clarke jolts and moans loudly when his fingers make contact with her sensitive bud, thrusting her hips forward again. Unsure about the sensitivity of the audio pickup, Roan opts to just pull her earlobe into his mouth and nibble on it instead of spilling filthy, degrading words into her ear, and proceeds to rub tight, fast circles on her clit. The fingers of his other hand descend lower, toward her opening, and then inside. Even with his long arms, all he can manage is getting the tips of two fingers inside of her, but the tightness around them triggers thoughts and memories of her tight little cunt squeezing his cock… which jumps at the image in his head. Not today, though.

With two meaty fingertips in her cunt and two more on her clit, he sets a punishing pace that propels Clarke steadily towards her orgasm. She gyrates her hips, switching up side to side rotations with simple front to back rocking, but never escapes his attentions. After a few minutes, her back arches and she lets out a long, keening moan that is accompanied by full body trembling that makes her tits jiggle in the most enticing way he’s ever seen. He makes a mental note to have her ride him reverse cowgirl sometime.

He stills his fingers for a few seconds, letting her ride out her orgasm – and just when she’s come down from the precipice, panting, he picks back up and drives her to another one. She’s extremely sensitive, clit surely on fire from just being touched, but she hardly has a choice in the matter. She shrieks, shaking her head wildly, so with a sigh he pulls his fingers out of her cunt and slaps his hand over her gagged mouth, clamping down hard to hold her in place while he tortures her little clit. It takes barely a minute to get her back to the edge, and when her moaning changes to quickly repeating, “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he pinches her clit, and she comes even more wildly than before, hips rocking side to side, chest heaving, back arching to the point where it looks like it’s gonna snap any second, and somehow one of her legs first straightens out forward, then spasms and jerks around.

He lets up after she’s been coming for about a minute, giving her cunt a few not quite gentle pats, and goes about unlocking the handcuffs. As soon as she’s got her hands free, Clarke reaches up to unbuckle the gag, but lets it hang around her throat after she’s popped it out of her mouth, followed by a trail of drool.

“Oh my FUCKING GOD,” she moans, her voice an octave lower than normal. “That was AMAZING!” She looks over her shoulder, adding in a way too sweet tone, “Thank you, Roy!”

While he goes over to his toy bag to return the cuffs and pick out what he’s gonna use on her next, she wraps up the show. He just manages to catch a glimpse of the final tip counter before she closes the laptop. Yep. He’s definitely gonna have to raise her rent.

“Happy?”

Coil of rope in hand, he shrugs. “Fairly. You’re very convincing on camera.”

“What do you mean?”

“You make me think that you like what I’m doing to you, no matter how much you claim that you don’t.”

She snorts. “Oh, so you want me to actually tell them that you’re raping me regularly? Is that it? Because I can do that.”

“Please.” He grabs her shoulder and spins her around, then proceeds to wrap the rope around her wrists behind her back. “You’ve agreed to do whatever I want.”

“Because you leave me no other fucking choice.”

He casts a glance over at her shredded thong, then opts to instead grab the two inch ballgag from his bag. “My dear _Princess_ , we always have a choice. You’re simply making the one that only fucks _you_ over, and not your _daddy_ , too. It’s actually quite selfless of you, if you think about it.” As she opens her mouth to respond, he’s ready and pops the gag inside, reveling in the choked sound of protest she makes as he tightens the strap. Now, _this_ one she won’t be able to dislodge even if she tries. “Except, if you think about it, you got yourself into this mess. So it’s not really all that selfless. Just… accepting the consequences of your actions.”

With how hard his cock is, he’s happy to leave her bondage like this and drags her over to the bed. He sits down on the edge after shucking his clothes off, then drags her onto his lap. His hard cock slides along her cunt, picking up some of her moisture.

“Alright, Princess, you’re gonna ride me now until I come in your tight little cunt. Got it?”

Clarke grunts, but once he’s shifted back a little bit so that she can get her knees on the bed, and his cock into her cunt, she follows his order as reliably as ever. Groping her tits and occasionally torturing her still super sensitive clit, he enjoys the freedom of being able to let loose all those dirty words he held back earlier. From the way her cunt randomly clenches around him, he’s pretty sure that at least some of them are getting her off, too.

Yeah. He could definitely get used to this little arrangement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Roan is a colossal asshole.


	4. Three's Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's getting deeper and deeper for poor Clarke...

**Are you in?** Roan sends.

There’s hesitation on the other end. The typing notification appears a few times, then disappears again. Finally, words pop onto his screen.

**What the hell, yeah.**

He grins. **Awesome! Princess is going to be delighted!** He tacks on the name of a motel in a different part of town and a room number that he’s already reserved. **Be there in three days, nine PM sharp.**

The other man’s nerves seem to have settled, for his reply comes instantly. **Can’t wait!**

* * *

Roan watches her through a gap in the curtains of the room. He told her to come at eight, which would give him an hour to set her up and _prepare_ her for the night. She parks her car in the empty spot right outside of the room – his car is parked safely out of sight half a block away. He’ll have to show his face tonight, but that’s all.

Clarke fiddles with her keys as she locks her car. Her head’s on a swivel, taking in the entire motel yard and probably nothing at all at the same time as she locates the stairs off to the right and ascends, momentarily out of sight from his vantage point. A few seconds pass, then there’s a shy knock on the door.

“ _Princess_ , please, enter,” he greets her, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture.

Clarke walks in, both hands clutching the strap of her purse. She makes a beeline for the bathroom. Roan’s cock twitches as he watches her backside under the swishing white skirt that ends barely below her ass cheeks.

“You have five minutes, then I want you out here. Got it?”

She halts for a second, then continues to her destination, forgoing an answer. She’s back out well before his arbitrary deadline, facing him across the room as she puts her purse into the closet.

“Why am I here, Roan?”

The slight quiver of her voice as she says his name jolts him to half hardness. “Because I want you to be here, _Princess_.” He looks her up and down slowly, licking his lips as his eyes pass over her generous tits straining the fabric of her pink t-shirt with a unicorn in the middle. “And I want you all naked.”

She huffs, but doesn’t offer any verbal comeback as she quickly strips out of her clothes. There’s nothing sexy to the way she does it, dropping her skirt, shucking her shirt, unclasping her bra, pulling down and stepping out of her panties. In under a minute, she stands before him completely nude, arms hanging down by her sides. “What now, Sir?”

“That depends, Clarke. Would you like to have your ass fucked tonight?”

She twitches, clenches her ass up instinctively. Meekly, “No, Sir.”

“Thought as much.” He gestures to the bed. “On all fours, please. Face the foot.”

As she complies, he pulls his toy bag out and grabs two handfuls of neatly coiled rope. Clarke eyes him, biting her lower lip, as he proceeds to wrap her up in it. He crosses her ankles and lashes them together, then goes back to his bag and pulls out an adjustable spreader bar with a pair of cuffs that he affixes to her thighs just above her knees. Then he pulls the bar out to just over three feet in length, forcing her knees apart, which puts her cunt well on display. Next, he grabs her arms and pulls them behind her back, tying first her wrists and then her elbows tightly together so her forearms form a single column along her spine.

Without the support of her arms, Clarke’s cheek rests on the top sheet, face toward the door. Taking more rope, Roan wraps a couple of passes around her midsection, then attaches her bound wrists, forcing her elbows to bend a little bit. Clarke’s stoically breathing through it, though as soon as he lets go of her arms, she twists them a little, testing the bondage.

Another length of rope wraps around her chest now, first below, then above her tits, compressing them in between the wraps. Clarke whimpers a little when Roan slips another length underneath the wraps between her tits to tighten the wraps, and then proceeds to grab each of her tits in turn and wrap a single long tail of rope around the base of that tit until the skin is tight and ultra sensitive.

When he’s tied the ropes off and tucked the ends away, he glides just his fingertips over the taut skin, drawing a fresh wave of whimpers from her. Turning his hands just so, suddenly his tough, blunt nails make contact, and Clarke cries out.

“AH! No, please…”

He chuckles and locates her nipples, first rubbing them gently to the tune of more whimpering before he pinches them hard.

“AHHH! FUCKFUCKFUCK!”

During all of this, Clarke has twisted and squirmed around, but made no headway at all against the ropes. He spares a glance at the clock – eight twenty. Plenty of time to let her stew, then. He pulls his four final items from the bag and deposits them behind Clarke. Then he runs a hand up her thigh and over her ass. He squeezes the supple flesh there and even pulls her cheeks apart, exposing her tiny rosebud.

“You’re mine, Princess. Never forget that.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. “Yes, Sir.”

He picks up the first item: a leather blindfold. As he pulls it over her eyes, Clarke let’s out a startled gasp. He ignores it and buckles it tightly behind her head, then goes for the second one. Her mouth is still open as she pants – the loss of her sight seems to have set something off in her, be it primal panic or arousal. Or maybe a mix between the two. Nevertheless, it makes his next move much easier, as he hooks the bottom edge of the large steel ring behind her bottom teeth, pushing down to fully extend her jaw, and then a little more, until the top passes over her top teeth and settles behind them.

“Wha?!” she mumbles.

“This is called a ring gag, Princess,” he explains as he buckles the strap as tight as it goes. “Takes away your ability to speak coherently, yet leaves your mouth accessible for all kinds of fun.”

She lets out a keening moan, and he notes that a drop of drool is already rolling over her bottom lip, setting course for her chin.

“There’s nothing you can do about the drool, Princess.”

Clarke moans again, and the drop turns into a line that now runs down her chin and hangs off of it for a second, then finally falls and hits the sheet.

Roan grabs the third item, bringing it up to Clarke’s mouth. “Let’s lube this up,” he says, proceeding to shove the medium sized silicone plug into her open mouth. Clarke gags a bit as he pushes it in fully, and a fresh wave of drool prepares its escape. When he pulls it out again, it’s coated in thick saliva.

Clarke moans in a way that sounds like a wordless question as Roan approaches her backside again. When his large hand settles on the top of her ass and his fingers dive into the crack and spread it apart, she squirms and keens.

“OOoooh! O y a! O y a!”

Roan chuckles. “Do you really think you’re in a position to say no to me?” As he speaks, he places the tip of the plug against her asshole and applies pressure. Clarke cries out and clenches her ass, but ultimately she loses. One moment her asshole is an impenetrable fortress, the next half of the plug has sunken into her, spreading her little rosebud open around the biggest part of the plug.

“OOOOOhhhh! Ahhhh! AHhhh! HUCK!”

A little more pressure and it pops the rest of the way in. Clarke lets out another small scream, but settles down once the plug rests snugly inside of her.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Roan pats her ass. “Last one for now,” he says, picking up the egg-shaped vibrator. Deciding against shoving that, too, into her mouth for lubrication, he turns it on low and rubs it along the length of her cunt, from the opening up to her clit. Clarke moans a little when he keeps it up there for a few seconds, and he watches in fascination as her asshole rhythmically clenches around the plug. Finally, he draws the egg back up to her entrance and pushes it inside. It slides in easily, and he pushes his fingers in after it to settle it as deep within her as it goes. When he pulls them out, they’re sticky with Clarke’s juices.

“Got a treat for you, Princess,” he says, chuckling, and sticks his fingers into her mouth, wiping them against her tongue. “Get them clean.”

Of course, clean is relative, for when he removes his fingers from her mouth, they’re shiny with drool. He simply wipes them off on her discarded skirt as he picks that up and tosses it and the rest of her clothes into the closet together with her purse and shoes.

The clock reads just after eight thirty.

* * *

At nine sharp, there’s a knock on the door. Roan, who’s been sitting in the single armchair, spares a glance at Clarke as he stands. He wonders what’s going on in her head. Tied down, helpless, drooling, ass and pussy filled… he wishes he could read her mind now, could see what terrifying scenarios she’s imagined. Whether any of them are what’s going to happen in a few minutes.

The sheet is completely soaked through under her face. She’s resting on her cheek again, a thick coat of drool covering the side of her face.

Roan peeks out through the gap in the drapes, then positions himself strategically to cover the crack between door and frame as he opens. “Bellamy?”

“That’s me. BellBoy. You’re Roy?”

Roan grins and nods, opening the door enough to let the other man in. He holds out his right hand even as he closes and locks the door with his left. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming.”

Bellamy shakes it, glancing at Clarke. His forehead is a little crinkled where it peeks out from under his curly hair.

“Uhm…”

“Don’t worry, this is her fantasy,” Roan lies smoothly. “She wanted a threesome, and to not be in control at all. She wants us to do whatever we want to her – except fuck her in the ass. So the plug stays in there all night. That good?”

“Y-yeah, sure.” Bellamy slides his hands into his jeans pockets, then out again.

“No need to be nervous. This is all consensual. She has a safeword and everything.”

“O…kay.”

“You’re wondering why she won’t tell you herself?” When Bellamy nods, Roan goes on, “Part of the fantasy. She’s not in control tonight. That’s the deal. I am.”

Bellamy takes a deep breath, then pulls off his jacket. “Okay. Then we better not let the Princess wait, huh?”

Roan chuckles and takes off his shirt. “You want her mouth or her pussy first?”

Bellamy sighs. “Fuck. Pussy.”

Roan grins and drops his jeans and boxers, leaving him completely naked. “There are condoms on the nightstand. Nothing goes in her that’s unsheathed.”

Bellamy nods sagely and takes off the rest of his clothes as Roan rolls a condom onto his hard cock, then takes up position at the foot of the bed in front of Clarke. He grabs a handful of her hair and lifts her head until her mouth lines up with his cock. “Alright, suck it, Princess.”

Clarke moans. With the gag holding her mouth open, and its size, there’s absolutely no way she can even get close to touching his cock with her lips, never mind form a seal around it to create any kind of suction. She must know that he knows that. After a few seconds, she starts bobbing her head slowly back and forth, moving her tongue for stimulation. She makes a gurgling noise the first time her tongue touches the rubber, making Roan grin. _First time she has a condom in her mouth._ He lets her work for a minute, then starts pumping his hips into her face, forcing his cock down her throat.

Bellamy, who’s kneeling behind Clarke now, is looking over in alarm when he hears her gagging.

“She loves this,” Roan says. “Oh, right. Before you go in… she’s got a vibrating egg in her pussy. You’ll have to fish that out first.”

Bellamy nods, finding the thin wire that’s attached to the egg, and carefully pulls it out. Clarke moans, her throat vibrating around Roan’s cock. Bellamy drops the device off to the side and gets into position, his hard, sheathed cock nudging at Clarke’s pussy. Impaled on Roan’s cock, she stays perfectly still (apart from the convulsions of her throat muscles).

Bellamy slides home in one smooth thrust, bottoming out with his cock deep within Clarke’s pussy. Clarke is thrust forward just a little bit more, changing the angle of Roan’s cock in her throat just so, and she violently heaves. Roan pulls back into her mouth, letting her catch her breath and get her gag reflex under control, before he pushes back in. He and Bellamy quickly develop a rhythm, with one man entering while the other withdraws from Clarke’s body. The see-saw motion has her rocking back and forth, and Roan can’t resist reaching down to run his fingernails along one of her tied up, swollen and swinging tits. Clarke moans loudly – unfortunately for her, just when Roan thrusts into her throat, which cuts the sound off immediately, replacing it with a gurgling response of her gag reflex.

Bellamy has gotten into it too, now, and starts to spank Clarke’s ass while he fucks her. “Fuck,” he breathes. “She’s got the most perfect pussy I’ve ever seen.”

“And felt,” Roan adds.

“And felt, yeah.”

Roan thrusts back into her throat and holds her head in place there. “Rub her clit, now.”

Bellamy obeys, bottoming out in Clarke as well as he slips a hand below her and rubs at her clit. She chokes on the cock in her throat, gurgling hard as her body starts to shake.

“Oh fuck,” Bellamy groans. “She’s coming alright.”

“Yeah, her pussy fucking squeezes the life out of you when she comes. It’s insane.” Roan casually withdraws from her throat when she starts to fight his hold a little more violently. “Her throat is nice, too. You wanna switch?”

Bellamy shrugs. “Sure. Should I change the condom?”

“Nah. She likes to taste herself.”

Bellamy nods slowly as he climbs off the bed and moves around. Roan sighs as he gets into position behind Clarke.

“Let’s do it differently this time. In together, out together.”

Bellamy grins. “Sure, whatever.”

The men both line up. Roan grabs Clarke’s ass cheek and squeezes. On his rasped, “Go,” they both enter her, shoving in until they bottom out at their respective ends. Clarke spasms at the sudden intrusion, her throat already wrecked and her pussy still extremely sensitive from her recent orgasm. On silent agreement, they both withdraw, then fuck back into her. The rhythm comes almost by itself. Clarke makes choked sounds every time they fuck into her, the double stimulation robbing her of any last bit of self control she might’ve had, and gasps in desperate breaths when they withdraw.

After ten or so minutes of fucking her like this, she starts to tremble. Roan smirks and sneaks a hand under her. “Grab her tits,” he tells Bellamy. “And give her nipples a good pinch.”

Bellamy obeys, and Clarke wails at the pain in her poor tits, all while Roan rubs and pinches her clit. She shakes and screams, coming while she’s being impaled on both ends.

Roan pulls out of her and gestures for Bellamy to do the same. “Wow,” he says, ditching the rubber as he climbs off and stands next to the other man. “I’ve never seen her come _this_ hard before. Sorry, man, but I don’t think she’s got any more in her tonight.”

Bellamy huffs. “Can I get her pussy again?”

Roan pretends to think about it. “I guess. But make it quick. And when you get close, pull out and come on her.”

“That her thing, too?” Bellamy asks as he climbs back onto the bed.

“No, that’s mine,” Roan admits as he casually jerks his cock. “I gotta get something out of this too, don’t you think?”

“Ohhh fuck,” Bellamy moans as he slides back into Clarke’s pussy. “Yeah, sure, man. It’s only fair if you help make her fantasies come true.”

It doesn’t take much longer. Clarke is whimpering the whole time Bellamy fucks her hypersensitive cunt. After a few minutes, Bellamy groans long and hard and pulls out, whipping the rubber off as he gets to his feet, towering over her bound frame. His hand flies up and down his cock, and Roan speeds up his own movements.

“Here it comes, Princess,” Bellamy moans, making Roan grin and Clarke groan, and then both men shoot their loads all over her back and ass.

* * *

“Thanks, man,” Bellamy says, dressed again, as he approaches the door. “And thank you, Princess, for the opportunity. If you ever need a third… well, second guy, let me know, yeah?”

“We will,” Roan replies, clapping him on the shoulder. “Get home safe, okay?”

After the other man has left, Roan approaches Clarke. She’s breathing deeply still, but seems to have calmed down somewhat. _A shame._ He smacks her ass a few times, hard, and flicks the end of the butt plug. Clarke groans. Then Roan grabs her ankles and yanks her legs out from under her, forcing her to drop to the mattress, making her scream and wail as her tortured tits mash against the surface.

“Alright, _Princess_ … I’ve got this room until tomorrow morning, and no plans.”

Clarke sobs as he climbs on top of her and begins to hump his half-hard cock against her ass.


	5. Uhm… Princess?

Clarke has to fight herself to get out of bed for days after the night at the motel. Every morning, she wakes only to remember the horrible experience. Somehow, up until that night, she’d managed to rationalize everything. Tuck it away in little boxes. Sure, he’d hurt her, _raped_ her, but some part of it had always felt… _good_. Even at the motel, she’d come so hard her muscles are still sore now, days later. But something there was different.

She drags herself into the shower, refusing to look in the mirror. With the water turned up to hot, she’s grateful for the steam that’s going to be fogging it up when she’s done. Closing her eyes, she lathers up slowly, carefully. Her tits are still tender from the ropes. She’d sobbed that night when he’d taken them off – partly out of pain, partly out of horror when she’d seen the color they’d turned. Even now, she’s still not looking at them, or at least trying not to. She’s scared that if she does, she’ll be throwing up.

Passing on her fluffy white robe – yet another thing that this _fucker_ has ruined for her – she dresses in simple black sweatpants and a hoodie over a t-shirt and panties. Bras are going to have to wait. She pulls the last of her milk out of the fridge and makes a bowl of tasteless cereal as she realizes she’s going to have to leave her apartment to get food. Not that her apartment is really any safer than outside of it. But as long as the door is closed, and she’s alone inside, she can pretend that things are mostly alright. Once she opens that front door…

Clarke has no idea how she came to sit on the floor, with her back to the sink cabinet. Or why her cereal bowl is upended next to her, half the contents spilled. Or why her heart is beating a mile a minute, and her breathing races to match it. All she can think about is that she’s gonna have to open her door and she really, _really_ doesn’t think she can.

It takes her the better part of an hour to settle her nerves down to where her heart is only beating a little faster than it should, and her breathing is just a little shallower than she would like. She finally just slips her feet into a pair of old sneakers, grabs her purse and car keys, and wrestles with herself for a couple of minutes before she finally cracks open the door.

Roan isn’t waiting outside for her. She sneaks out, closing the door as quietly as possible, and makes her way to the emergency stairs. They’re on the other side of the building from his ground floor apartment and lead straight out onto the narrow alley between her building and the next. Nobody hangs around there either, and she reaches her car without incident. Her heart still pounding, she drives, and her breathing only slows when she finally reaches the store.

Shopping actually takes her mind off of it for a bit. Making mindless decisions like whether she wants skim or two percent milk for her cereal, or trying to find well ripened avocados, slowly but surely brings a certain calm to her soul. She even throws the young girl at the cash register a smile and means it.

She’s loading her shopping bags into the back of her car, humming the tune of the last song she heard in the store, when a shadow falls on her.

“Uhm… Princess?” a male voice asks.

Clarke freezes. Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck. Not again. She can’t… fucking… not…

“Hey.” The same voice. But it’s… muffled. Like she has cotton in her ears. “Hey. P… Miss. I… I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She blinks. Why is she sitting on the ground in the parking lot? What’s…

“Hey. You with me?”

She looks up. There’s a guy kneeling above her, holding her up with a beefy arm, looking down at her from under a mess of black curls. She loses herself in his dark eyes and mass of freckles for a few seconds before she remembers that he asked her a question.

“I… don’t know. Why… am I on the ground?”

“You… kind of collapsed?” He looks a little scared. “Your heart is beating like crazy. Could… you be having a panic attack?”

Clarke blinks. Panic… Her eyes snap open. The voice. She… fuck. She remembers it. She wants to push him, to scramble away, but her limbs won’t move.

“Get… get…” A sob heaves out of her chest, cutting off whatever it is that she was going to say.

“Shhh…” He strokes her back. “I don’t wanna hurt you. Please. I just… I want to talk. You remember me?”

She nods, tears streaming down her face.

“I was at the motel.” He sighs. “I… really, we should talk. Somewhere else. People are gonna ask questions if we’re gonna be sitting here for much longer.”

She nods. Can’t do much else.

“Will you be okay with me taking you to my place?”

Clarke blinks. Can’t think. “I got milk in the car…”

“We can stick it in my fridge while we talk.”

“O.. okay.”

She lets him help her up then, and he slowly guides her to the passenger side of her car, letting her situate herself while he loads the remaining groceries in the back and returns the cart. Then he slips into the driver’s seat, fiddling a little with the adjuster until he’s comfortable. She hands him her keys when he prompts, watching him drive her car out of the lot as if in a haze. The drive feels kind of surreal. When he finally puts a cup of steaming tea in front of her face, she snaps out of her stupor, realizing she’s sitting in a stranger’s kitchen, and she has no idea where the fuck in town she is. It’s almost enough to kick her into a panic again, except… he’s holding her hand? And not threateningly, his hand is on the table, palm up, holding hers gently in it.

“Okay, first things first… My name is Bellamy. Bellamy Blake. You know me better as… BellBoy.”

Clarke blinks. “This is not what I imagined you’d look like.”

He laughs. It’s such a warm sound that it pulls a smile to Clarke’s lips. Then she remembers who he is, and the smile drops.

“What’s your name?”

What the hell. “Clarke.”

“That’s… an unusual name.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes. Clarke can’t help but focus on the heat coming from his palm, seeping into her skin, crawling up her arm.

“Okay, this is really hard, but… I’m just gonna say it. Did I rape you? At the motel? Did… was that really your fantasy, or was this Roy guy… lying?”

Clarke takes a deep breath. Blinks. Her arm is wet. She looks down, then touches her cheek. “I…”

“Fuck. I did, didn’t I? And he lied. Fuck. Clarke, I’m… I’m so sorry. I know that means nothing, but… fuck.”

He squeezes her hand, once. Then he makes to pull it away, but somehow, she doesn’t know why, she grabs onto it, keeping it in place.

Next she knows, they’re sitting on a couch, and she’s leaning into his chest. Her head is pounding, and her face is all kinds of wet. But at least that pressure in her chest is gone, and her heart isn’t beating so fast anymore.

She sits back slowly, holding a hand to her head.

“Hold on, I’ll get you an aspirin,” he starts, then slaps his own head. “Fuck, what am I even thinking? You’re not gonna want to take pills from a guy who raped you.”

Clarke shakes her head. “I… have some in my purse.”

He nods. “Of course.” He leaves the room briefly, coming back with her purse. “Sorry, I put it down by the door. Didn’t open it, I swear.”

She nods. At least her purse is a mess – one that she knows perfectly. She skillfully digs a small bottle of painkillers from a hidden zipper pocket and just considers taking one dry when he hands her a sealed bottle of water. She nods and uncaps it, taking a long drink before popping the pill into her mouth and washing it down with more water.

Bellamy keeps his distance, sitting down on the floor across from her on the other side of the coffee table.

She’s gonna have to make a choice. Tell him the truth, or tell him to fuck off. He’s already admitted to enough stuff that she could probably scare him into laying off if she threatened to report him. He wouldn’t have to know that she doesn’t actually have that option, because reporting him would lead them to Roan, and then Roan would blow up her life.

On the other hand, Bellamy has been nothing but careful around her just now. He helped her at the store, when he could’ve loaded her into his car instead and kidnapped her. And the way he held her hand earlier, and when she was presumably crying… and how he’s giving her space now, doing his best to stay nonthreatening. She sighs. He’s looking at her with his big, dark eyes.

“You’re right,” she says. “He was lying to you. He… His name isn’t actually Roy, either. It’s… Roan. He’s my landlord. And…” She takes a deep breath. “He’s blackmailing me.”

Bellamy nods slowly. “That makes some kind of sense. He… found out that you cam?”

She nods. “I… Oh fuck it. My stepdad is a senator. Roan threatened to leak my… internet activities to whoever would publish them without a second thought. It wouldn’t only drag me into the spotlight, but it would probably also wreck my stepdad’s career… Didn’t really leave me any choice.” She laughs hollowly. “Made my bed, I guess… now I gotta lie in it.”

Bellamy mutely shakes his head. It takes a whole minute before he breathes out, “Fucking hell.”

“Yeah.”

“What… an incredible asshole. Clarke…”

“I know.”

“You got to report him.”

“I can’t. Please, Bellamy…” She takes a few deep breaths. “I have to deal with the consequences of my actions.”

“Bullshit.” Her head snaps up, eyes locking on him. “The only ones here who have to deal with consequences are he and I. You… you didn’t do anything wrong, Clarke. You can’t seriously blame yourself for what he did.”

“He didn’t tell me to show myself naked on the internet…”

“No, but just because he recognized you doesn’t give him any right to extort you. Fuck. What he’s doing is so wrong on all the levels.”

Clarke blinks. “I… yeah, but… what the fuck can I _do_ about it?” She snorts. “Don’t say go to the police, because I _can’t_.”

Bellamy nods. “I know you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but… I could help.”

“How?”

“Well… if I’m going away for rape anyway, might as well kill the asshole who got me into this mess, right?”

“Please tell me that was a joke.”

“Only… kinda? Not really. I mean…”

Clarke sits forward. “Bellamy, you… I… I don’t know how to explain this, but… I do trust you. Fuck. I know you… participated in my rape, but… it was not your fault. You were tricked.” She catches his eyes with hers. “If I’m not responsible for Roan’s actions, then neither are you.”

“Except it’s not the same. I actually participated. I _fucked_ you without getting _your_ explicit consent first. That’s the definition of rape. Believing him… hell, I only ever talked to him. I should’ve known something was wrong. I guess… I just wanted to… be with you… so badly that I convinced myself that it was really your fantasy that we were acting out.”

While he rants, Clarke stands up and walks around the table, sinking to the floor next to him. She grabs one of his hands while he gesticulates and holds it in both of hers. “Bellamy. I. Forgive. You.”

He freezes. “What? Why? How?”

“I can’t… explain it. I’m just… You made a mistake believing Roan, yes. The man has a way with people. And, as twisted as it may seem, you were acting in what you believed at the time to be my interest. And since then… you could’ve kidnapped me at the store, or put something in a glass of water instead of giving me a sealed bottle, or gone through my purse, or… so many fucking things. That you did the exact opposite proves to me that you’re not a bad person, Bellamy. I wouldn’t be telling you all of this if I thought otherwise. Hell, I’m telling you because I’ve chosen to trust you. I trust that you don’t want to hurt me. Am I wrong?”

“No… shit, no. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Good.”

“But… I have to confess something.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I… meeting you at the store wasn’t an accident. When I… left the motel, I had this weird feeling about the whole night. So I decided to stick around. Pretended to drive away, but waited across the street. When I saw your car leave, I followed you all the way to your place. I was gonna come by and talk to you the next day because I wanted to know if what Roy–Roan had said was true, but when I got there the next morning, I saw him outside washing his truck. Figured if he saw me, and he had lied, it would probably be bad, so… I may have been camping out at the end of your street on the way to the store. Thought I’d get a chance to talk to you alone that way.”

Clarke chuckles softly. “Wow. That’s some A-grade stalking right there. I would be creeped out now if you hadn’t done it with good intentions.”

He whispers, “I still don’t get how you can just forgive me, though.”

“Simple. Way I see it, you were stupid, but you’re trying hard to make up for it. Also… you didn’t hurt me. Not really. Roan did. He used you to hurt me.”

“I guess…”

“Bellamy. Trust me on that, okay?”

“I…” He sighs deeply. “Okay. It’ll take a while for me to forgive myself, though.”

She smiles, though a little sadly. “I get that. We’re often our own harshest critics.” After a beat of silence, she cracks a grin. “The couch was comfier than the floor.”

They talk for hours. Once the dam is broken, their conversation flows from one subject to the next seamlessly. Bellamy makes them tea twice more, and by the time night comes around, Clarke is genuinely surprised that it’s getting dark outside.

“I guess I should be going home,” she says, putting her cup back onto the coffee table. With nothing to hold, she twists her fingers together.

“Or you could stay,” Bellamy suggests. “I mean… I have a guest room. It has a lock and everything. I promise you’ll be safe.”

“That’s sweet, Bellamy, but–”

“Please. I can’t… I don’t want to imagine him waiting for you when you get home.”

Clarke shudders. The thought has entered her mind. “Okay. If you’re sure it’s not a burden for you.”

“I’m sure. I have a lot to make up to you, Clarke. Letting you sleep here is not even gonna make a dent in it.”

She smiles. “Okay.”

“And maybe I’ll have a better idea than killing Roan in the morning.”

Clarke puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes lightly. “You better. I like you, Bellamy. I’m not gonna let him be the reason I lose you.”

It’s dark around her when Clarke wakes. It’s not a gradual drifting from dream to consciousness – she bolts awake, eyes wide open, yet unseeing. It takes a few minutes for her eyes to adjust, all while her heart is hammering away in her chest. She’s lying perfectly still, like she did when she was a kid the night she watched a documentary about bats and went to bed imagining a swarm of them circling over her bed. Back then it had taken her hours to finally fall asleep, in which she’d nearly bitten her lip bloody. Now, as her eyes adjust to the bits of moonlight that filter in around the curtains, all she sees is a foreign room. The blanket, the pillows, none of it is hers.

_Bellamy_. She’s at his place. Her eyes flick over to the door. She didn’t lock it, deciding to show him that she trusts him. It could’ve proved a stupid move, but it didn’t. _Bellamy_. His bedroom is down the hall, past the bathroom. He showed her before. She can’t fully articulate why she feels like she can trust him. All the things she told him are true, no doubt, but there’s more. Something about the way he carries himself, shoulders slightly hunched over like he’s holding up the sky like some figure out of ancient mythology, yet quick to joke and smile at her own snarky remarks. If only they’d met under different circumstances. Without Roan…

Clarke shakes her head and flips back the covers. She slides her feet out of bed and sits at the edge of the mattress for a few minutes, her feet sinking into the plush rug in front of the bed. It doesn’t matter. Roan or not, they met. She’s not gonna give that up just because of that asshole.

With a nod to herself, Clarke gets to her feet and leaves her room. It’s only a half dozen steps to his door, and she doesn’t even think to knock, just enters. Bellamy’s curled up on his side, a good portion of his bed empty, practically calling her name. A shaft of moonlight falls in through the gap where he didn’t close the curtains fully, casting a strange halo around his messy hair.

Clarke watches him for a few moments, his chest rising and falling slowly. Then she crawls into his bed and spoons up to him, sliding her arm around his middle.


	6. Let's do this

Clarke wakes up feeling all warm and fuzzy. Unlike last night, she gradually gains more awareness, from the soft mattress under her to the sunlight warming her neck, to the thick, strong arm that’s wrapped around her stomach. She sighs, instinctively wiggling herself closer to the person behind her. Who grunts, and then a very distinctively hard cock is pressing against her ass.

She should be freaked out about this, shouldn’t she? This very cock fucked her several times in several places without her consent. The man attached to it was complicit in her rape. So why does it make her proud that his cock is hard? Why does it make her pussy all hot and needy?

“Whassa…” Bellamy mumbles, then groans. His arm tightens around her for a split second, then he yanks it back. Her face falls. “Clarke? What… what are you doing here?”

Voice small, she answers, “You offered to let me stay the night, remember?”

“Ye-yeah, but…”

“I’m sorry,” she huffs, slides herself reluctantly toward the edge of the bed. “I woke up and… I just didn’t want to be alone. Sorry. I’ll get dressed and out of your hair now.”

“Wait.”

She pauses, legs poised to swing out from under the blanket. Does she dare to hope…?

“I… shit, you confuse me a little, that’s all. I mean… You said you forgive me, but I guess I still have a hard time really believing that, you know? And not to mention that you’d freely come and lie down in my bed…”

“Is it so hard to believe that I think you’re a good guy and that I trust you?” Is it so hard to believe that she liked being fucked by him, even when it was against her will? Does that make her a slut? A whore, like Roan called her? Is she that desperate for a fuck already?

“Kind of. After what I’ve done. Doesn’t really matter that you say you forgive me when I haven’t forgiven myself.”

That’s the salient point, isn’t it? Forgiving yourself for your mistakes and what turns you on. Among other things. So what if she gets turned on by being manhandled sometimes? So what if _he_ turns her on, even after what he did? Should she really throw all that away, an ally who wants to help her, because some people might call her a slut?

“You should.” She flops back and rolls over onto her side to face him. “Forgive yourself.” She’s forgiving herself too. Let people call her a slut if they want. Who gives a fuck?

“Maybe. But I can’t. Not yet. I haven’t done enough to earn it yet.”

“Okay.” He’s gonna have to find his own way to it. “Will you freak out if I cuddle you again?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But less than now, I guess. You planning to sleep here again?”

Just keep him not freaked out. “Your bed is comfy.”

Bellamy sighs deeply.

“What?”

“I just… I wish we’d met under other circumstances. That we’d wake up after having met in a bar or something. Or in the store, after finding out we like the same kind of cereal.”

“Yeah.” Clarke snorts. Doesn’t she ever. “Life’s a bitch sometimes.” She puts a hand on his chest. Maybe she can convince him. Maybe not freaking him out is not the way to go. “But… We can’t do anything but deal with what we have. I, for one, am not going to let all this bullshit predetermine anything. Okay?”

“’S gonna be harder than it sounds. But yeah. I’ll work on it.”

“Good.” She smiles. This is it. Either he’s gonna come around, or kick her out. “And maybe I can do some more… convincing.” Her smile widens when he gives her a confused look. “Just… trust me.” In one quick move, she straddles his waist. “I believe I felt something in your pants earlier.”

“Clarke…”

“Yes, Bellamy?”

“What are you doing?”

She smiles sweetly. “I believe it’s called foreplay.”

“Clarke…”

“Relax. Trust me.” She slides back and hooks her fingers into the waistband of his pajama pants. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.”

“I… Fuck. I do. I want this so bad.”

“Good. Because I do too.” She yanks his pants and boxers down far enough that his cock flops out. “I remember having this in my mouth. It was so big…” Wrapping her hand around it, she gives it an experimental pump. “Feels so big, too.” Bellamy moans, making Clarke smile wider. “You like this, huh? You like my little hand on your big, hard cock?”

Bellamy nods. “Fuck. So much. Like it so much.”

“Hm, I wonder,” she says, touching a finger to her chin. “Would you like my hot little mouth on it?”

“Uuuuhhhh, fuck.”

Clarke leans forward and gives the head a little lick. Then she slides it into her mouth properly, her lips and jaw stretching to accommodate it. For a brief moment, she pauses, waiting for the panic to kick in, but it doesn’t come. The corners of her mouth quirk up briefly, and then she bobs her head down, nearly taking him into her throat on the first attempt. Bellamy’s groans spur her on, and she keeps pushing herself until she gets him all the way, her chin touching his balls.

“Fuck! Ohhh, so fucking good…”

She pulls back and off, resuming a slow jacking as she wipes her mouth. “Are you clean?”

He nods quickly. “Yeah… Clarke…”

By the look in his eyes, his brain has already caught up to what she insinuates, but his mouth doesn’t seem to be able to put it into words. Or maybe his brain is overloading at the thought. Whichever it is, Clarke has slipped her panties off before he’s so much as lifted a hand, and then she crawls over him, presses her slightly swollen lips to his. They’re a little chapped and rough on her sensitive ones, but she moans in pleasure anyway. He’s frozen in place when she pulls back and smiles. Doesn’t blink when she reaches down and aligns his spit-slick cock with her bare, pulsing, dripping pussy.

“Tell me you want this, Bellamy,” she whispers. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly. “Clarke, I… oh fuck, I want this so much. Want you so, so much.”

“Thanks. Just needed to hear you say it.” And with those words, she sinks down on him, enveloping his cock with her tight, slippery folds. It spears her open, hard and thick, the stretch even more pronounced than it was in her mouth. She opens her mouth wide, a whimpering groan spilling straight out of her belly. She scrunches her eyes shut tight, blocking out the suddenly too bright early morning sunlight as she tries to adjust. Her thighs come to rest on his hips, and she automatically braces her hands on his chest.

“Fuck.” She breathes deeply, once, twice, then raises her eyes to his and smiles. “Oh. Fuck. You feel so good in me, Bellamy.”

He’s looking back at her with pure awe radiating from his face. His hands are hovering in the air between them, like he wants to touch her but doesn’t know where. “Clarke… I…”

She rocks her hips back and forth once, getting him to rub against her walls just right. “Use… your words, Bellamy.”

“Can… I touch you?”

She nods, biting her lip, and rocks again.

“Where?”

She grabs his hands and puts them on her hips. Then she notices his eyes glancing up at her tits.

“Not today, okay?”

“'Course, Clarke.” His hands tighten on her, his fingers slipping just under the hem of her shirt. “You’re so… perfect.”

She smiles softly. “Thank you.”

She finds a rhythm that works well for her, and doesn’t leave him hanging either, going by the sounds he makes. It’s a mix of rocking around fully impaled on his cock and bouncing up and down – the former doing more for her, the latter for him. When she starts to get close, she lifts up a little and fucks just the head of his cock with rapid strokes, leaning forward to kiss him. Every handful of strokes she slams down hard and rocks around once. His moans spill into her mouth and she drinks them up like they’re lifesaving water. Her heart hammers so fast and hard she’s almost sure that it’s going to break her ribs any moment. His hips start to jerk, driving his cock up into her. She pushes him back, pulls away a little, and looks him straight in the eyes as she speeds up, taking him and herself right to the edge, before she slams down one more time and cums. She fights to keep her eyes open and on him throughout her orgasm, and even laughs when his hot cum spurts into her. Bellamy smiles up at her, his hands still on her hips where she put them.

Once she’s caught her breath, she leans down and kisses him, softly and slowly. His cock is still hard in her pussy, even as their combines juices are leaking out around it.

“Breakfast?” Bellamy mumbles into her mouth.

“I could go for a sausage,” Clarke says with a positively saucy grin.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he tilts his hips and slips out of her. Clarke moans at the sudden loss.

“I think that will have to wait,” he says.

She lifts up and looks down at his softening, juice-covered cock. “Fine.”

He slides his hands around, fingertips teasing over her ass. “Believe me, I want to. Just…”

“Recovery time. I know.” She smiles. “Let’s have some breakfast, then.”

* * *

Over a simple breakfast of cereal and tea, they mull over ideas. Bellamy pitches murdering Roan again, but shuts up about it when Clarke gives him a dark look.

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind if he died,” Clarke says. “But I don’t want you to do it.”

“We could make it look like suicide.”

“Yeah? We’d have to clean up all the evidence he collected on me, and we’d probably still leave some kind of trail for the police to find when they look for reasons. No.”

“Drug overdose?”

“As much of an asshole as he is, I don’t think he uses.”

“Doesn’t have to. All we need to do is get our hands on some and put it into his apartment. And stage the scene.”

“Yeah, right. And leave no evidence that we got the stuff. _And_ stage a plausible scene for a first time user to OD. Let’s bench this and look for something else.”

“What about… you said ‘clean up all the evidence’. What if we just do that? Delete everything he had on you. Wipe his computer, his phone, take printouts.”

“I would have to delete my account, too. If he could recognize me from my videos, so could anyone else who knows me. But even then… I’m sure some of my watchers would be uploading my videos to other sites, so he could get it all back.”

“So we’re back to killing him.”

“I guess… but whatever we do, we’re gonna be living the rest of our lives in fear of someone figuring out that we did it.”

“Not if you let me do it. I’ll turn myself in after. Case closed.”

“No!” Clarke glares at him. “For the last fucking time, Bellamy. You’re not going to sacrifice yourself. I won’t let him take you. He’s already taken way too much from me.” She squints. “But… I may have another idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Self defense. If _I_ kill him when he’s in the middle of raping me again, I can claim self defense.”

“How are you gonna do that if he ties you up? Hasn’t he done that every time so far?”

“Yeah…”

“Besides, then the police would look at his stuff and find out why he’s been blackmailing you. And do you want to trust them to keep it all hidden?”

“Okay, forget it. Ugh!”

Bellamy kneads his bottom lip for a minute. “Or maybe… okay, this is going to be convoluted, but maybe like this. I have a friend who’s good with computers. He’ll be able to get a virus into Roan’s computer and phone that can wipe everything on command. Or better yet, one of those crypto locking things that are going around. Once we have that… he’s gonna suspect something, so he’s probably going to come and confront you. I’ll come with you. With me there, he’s going to put two and two together. And since he doesn’t like to lose control, he’s gonna start fighting me. At which point you can reasonably say that a crazy man came into your apartment and started attacking your guest, so you’d be fully within your rights to defend yourself.”

Clarke mulls that over. “Convoluted yes. What if he printed shit out? Virus wouldn’t get that.”

“My friends could. When Roan storms up, they’d have a small window to go through his things.”

“It’s risky. They’d do that for you? For me?”

“They owe me. And if I tell them the broad strokes, they wouldn’t bat an eye.”

“It’s still a hell of a risk.”

“Yeah. But do you want to be at his mercy for the rest of your life? How soon until he starts extorting money from you? How long until he makes you fuck people for money that he can pocket?” Bellamy’s expression softens, and he puts a hand on hers. “I think it’s worth risking everything to gain everything.”

“But…” She frowns. “What if it gets you or one of your friends in trouble?”

“That’ll be their choice. And mine. What he’s doing is wrong.”

Clarke looks at their joint hands for a long few minutes. “There’s another option.” She squeezes her eyes shut, then looks up at him with wide eyes. “Call his bluff. Let him publish whatever he wants.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen. “But… you let him do all these things because…”

“Yeah. I know. Why now, right?” Her eyes harden. “I guess I’ve had time to process this. And what I did may have consequences for me, but they’ll be mine to bear. Not yours, and not your friends'.”

“What about your stepdad?”

“I’ve thought about that, too. Why should what I get up to really have that much impact on his career? Plus, he’s got lawyers and PR managers and shit. They can protect his career. And if not… hell. What do I really care? It’s not like not getting reelected is going to bankrupt him.”

Bellamy nods. “If you’re sure, then that’s what we’ll do. That is… if you want me there.” He smiles shyly. “I’d like to be.”

“Yeah. I’d like you to be there, too.”

* * *

Clarke raps her knuckles on Roan’s door.

“Miss Griffin, what a nice surprise,” he says, eyes darting to Bellamy standing behind her.

“Cut the shit, Roan,” she snaps, pushing past him. Bellamy follows on her heels, not giving Roan any chance to slam the door shut until they’re in his apartment.

Roan closes the door quietly. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. How can I help you?”

“You tricked Bellamy into fucking me for your amusement. We talked about it. About how you’ve been blackmailing me.”

Roan frowns. “So?”

“So you’re going to stop,” she says. “Or rather, I’m not going to allow you to do it any longer. Do whatever you feel you must, but know this: if anyone asks me if I know who could have motive to humiliate me, I’m going to give them your name.”

“Oh really? What happened to not wanting to wreck your daddy’s career?”

Clarke grins. “He’s a politician. If he’s good, he’ll be able to protect his career. And if he isn’t… I realized something. If it came down to it, he’d choose his career over helping me. So… Why should I let you rape me for the rest of my life to help him?” She shrugs. “So… yeah. That’s all, really. Oh, and I’ll be moving out. You understand.”

She doesn’t wait for his response. Instead she grabs Bellamy’s hand and moves to the door. Once it closes behind her, Clarke sighs heavily and grins. “Wow. That felt good!”

“He definitely did not see that one coming,” Bellamy replies. “But what if he actually does what he threatened?”

“Then he’ll do it. Whatever.” She pulls him into her apartment, locking the deadbolt and putting up the chain. “Wanna help me pack some stuff up?”

“Where are you gonna go?” he asks.

Clarke looks at him carefully. Is he asking what she thinks he’s asking? He said he’d help her deal with Roan, but nothing beyond. Though she has a feeling… “I don’t know. But I know I have to get out from where he could still physically get to me.”

“You can stay with me, if you want. Indefinitely.” He shrugs. “I still have that guest room. It could be yours.”

A smile slowly spreads on her face. “What if I wanna stay in your room?”

“Well… you can, but I don’t think all of your stuff will fit in there with mine.” He glances around. “And… you know, if you wanted privacy or whatever, you’d need your own room.”

Beaming now, Clarke tackles him in a hug. “You’re awesome, Bellamy. Seriously.”

He hugs her back. “Let me call some friends. We’ll get your stuff out of here in no time.”


	7. It's the end, a new beginning

Clarke slides out of the passenger side of Raven’s car. In the back, on the other side, Bellamy is slipping out.

“Thanks for driving!” Clarke half yells. She grips the frame a little tighter until she gets used to standing upright again.

“Your turn next time,” Raven replies. “Now go home and fuck your man.”

Clarke barks a laugh, blows Raven a kiss, and makes her way to the door of Bellamy’s house. The man in question is hot on her heels, catching up with her after rounding the car just as she reaches the door. He crowds her against it, nipping at her throat as he fumbles for his keys. Harper yells something as Raven drives off, but Clarke is too caught up tracking Bellamy’s progress on giving her yet another hickey to listen. She _has_ to wear heels more often. Her three inch wedges give her just enough of a boost to be almost level with Bellamy, which, combined with her side braid, makes her neck a very tempting target to his lips. Almost like she planned it.

He gets the key in the door at some point, and they stumble inside, Clarke clutching Bellamy’s waist. He slams her back against the door, locking the deadbolt with an audible click while his free hand runs up her side and closed around her breast over her dress and bra.

Clarke slides her hands into his hair and drags his face up to hers to press a hot kiss to his lips. Bellamy groans as she nips at his bottom lip.

“Greedy girl,” he mumbles against her lips.

“Mhm, fuck.” She rocks her hips against his and tugs on his hair. “Bed?”

“So greedy.” He steals a quick kiss, then grabs her hands and pulls them down. “You’re mine, Clarke. All mine.”

“Yesss.” She sighs. “Please, daddy.”

His lips mark a trail up her neck to her ear. “Please, what?”

“Ah! Take me, daddy. Fuck me, please.”

He nips at her earlobe. “Get on the bed. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Clarke scampers off. She slips out of her shoes and clothes in record time, then crawls onto the bed. For a minute, she ponders how to greet him, then decides to simply kneel in the middle of the mattress, knees spread wide, with her hands clasped behind her back. The position thrusts her tits up and out, an effect that she’s not only perfectly aware of, but counting on. Plus…

“Fuck,” Bellamy breathes from the door. “Clarke…”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” she replies. “Fuck Clarke. Sounds like a plan to me.”

He snorts, moving further into the room. His jacket and shirt are off, leaving his arms and chest bare. Clarke almost starts to drool at the sight of his biceps, each as thick as both of hers together. The things he can do to her with them…

“You’ve been a very naughty girl tonight,” he says, reaching the bed. He reaches a hand out toward her and runs his fingertips over her cheek, down her throat, and cups her tit. “Showing so much cleavage in that tiny dress. Making me all hard the whole night and never doing anything about it.”

Clarke tries to pout, but she’s grinning too much to make it convincing. “I’m sorry, daddy,” she replies in a small voice. “Can I make it up to you?”

Bellamy sucks in a sharp breath as his pupils dilate so much they just about eclipse his irises. “You can and you will, Clarke.” He squeezes her tit, making her gasp. “Stay.”

He climbs on the bed behind her, and Clarke musters every ounce of self control she has to keep staring toward the door, and through it at the wall of the hallway. Her eyes trace the lines of the drawing they hung there, one of hers. A pencil drawing of a sunset on a beach. She’d stopped calling anyone ‘daddy’ when she drew that. Her dad had died, and this was one of her attempts to process her emotions through her art. It’s really ironic that she’s not even calling her stepdad ‘daddy’, but instead has bestowed that honor on Bellamy, if in a very different sense.

Bellamy pulls her from her musings with feather light fingertips tracing down her arms. She shivers lightly when he reaches her hands, and then deftly wraps soft rope around her forearms. He finishes quickly, welding her arms together in a tight, but comfortable hold, and repeats it around her upper arms, not quite making her elbows touch. She smiles as he runs the leftover rope around her shoulders and behind her neck to secure the tie.

“Okay?” he whispers into her ear, drawing another shiver from her.

“Yes, daddy.” She wiggles her arms a bit, but they pretty much only move together, and only very limited. Clarke rolls her neck and sighs. “Am I a good girl now?”

“Such a good girl,” Bellamy replies, stroking her hair. “My good girl.”

Clarke moans quietly, the grin on her face spreading even wider.

“Daddy wants to use your mouth now.”

She nods eagerly as he scoots her to the edge of the bed and gets in front of her, dropping his pants and boxers. His cock stands up hard as a rock, slightly curved up and left. Licking her lips, Clarke opens her mouth wide. Bellamy cups her chin in one hand and places the other one on the back of her head as he moves closer. As his cock enters her mouth, Clarke flutters her tongue against the underside and moans. He keeps going, pushing in until the tip hits the back of her throat. Clarke looks up and gives him a single, little nod, and he proceeds, changing the angle of her head ever so slightly, and then she swallows the head of his cock, her nose pressing into his pubic bone a second later.

Bellamy groans quietly, eyes locked on her. Clarke swallows around him, making him groan louder and swear as his cock is squeezed by her throat muscles. He pulls back after a few seconds, letting her breath, and they settle into a rhythm quickly, with him staying in her throat for a few seconds, then letting her breathe. Her pussy gets a little wetter every time he pushes in, almost as if it’s trying to provide lubrication to her throat. She moans along with it, the way he gently yet firmly uses her for his own pleasure sending tingles through her whole body that all join together at her clit. The little nub throbs with excitement and anticipation, but with her knees spread wide and her hands tied, there’s nothing she can do to take the edge off. It both frustrates her and makes the whole experience ten times hotter.

He pulls out completely after a few minutes, his cock shiny with her saliva. Clarke’s tongue darts out to catch a strand of it that still connects them, preventing it from dripping down.

“Good girl,” Bellamy says, stroking the back of her head. “Turn around for me.”

She smiles and, with a little help, pivots in place. He doesn’t even need to prompt her to drop her cheek to the mattress and raise her ass into the air. “Fuck me now, daddy?” she pleads.

“Only because you ask so nicely,” he replies, lines his cock up with her dripping pussy, and enters her in one smooth stroke.

Clarke’s eyes pop open wide and she lets out a loud moan at the feeling of his cock reaching deep within her as well as stretching her open wide. Even with all of her natural lubrication, there’s some pleasurable friction against her walls. She squirms her hips and moans when he finally bottoms out in her, his hands settling on her hip and her bound wrists.

“You’re so tight,” Bellamy grunts. “Always so fucking tight and wet for me, Clarke, like a good little girl.”

She turns her face into the comforter to hide her smile, suddenly feeling a little bashful at the praise.

“Almost like a little slut who can’t help thinking about daddy’s cock all day.”

She shudders, her cunt clinging to his cock as he withdraws.

“Is that true, baby? Are you thinking of my cock all day? Thinking of it stretching you open and fucking you hard?”

Clarke moans loudly. Bellamy drives his cock back into her, hitting all of her spots. She wants to answer, but she can’t manage to form words with her mouth as he starts to fuck her, lifting her arms away from her back so he can smack her ass occasionally when he withdraws. The sting from the spanks contrasts wonderfully with the pleasurable fire that his cock stokes within her, and the two together turn her thoughts to mush. She babbles something, doesn’t even know what, all her brainpower focused on enjoying the sensations he brings forth in her.

When he suddenly pauses, cock almost all the way out, she needs a few seconds to comprehend that he’s stopped, and then she lets out a whine. “Daddy, please keep fucking me!”

Bellamy strokes her back. “Clarke, your phone is ringing.”

She blinks and turns her head to the side. He’s right, it’s buzzing and chiming away on its charging pad on her nightstand, screen lit up. “Screw it,” she moans. “Keep fucking me!”

His hands grab onto her ass, digging into her flushed cheeks, and she groans. “You barely ever get calls, Clarke,” he says. “And not this late. It could be important.”

She tries to look back at him over her shoulder, but the position is not really helping. “Screw. It. I can call them back.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Okay.”

He picks up right where he left off, slamming his cock back into her hard, and Clarke forgets all about her phone. He spanks her ass harder now, each stroke compounding onto the heat in her cheeks while sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight into her cunt. Clarke’s hardly even aware of the sounds that leave her mouth, or the sounds that Bellamy makes. It all just builds and builds until she’s wound so tightly she feels like her spine is going to snap any second. Like this is it, this is how she’s gonna die.

Then Bellamy snakes a hand between them and flicks her clit once, twice, and Clarke explodes into an orgasm that has her clench her teeth hard, a primal growl forming in her throat. Her arms twist this way and that, her toes curl, and her cunt flutters around his cock. Dimly she hears his loud grunts, and somewhere in her orgasm-fogged brain she feels his hot cum paint the inside of her pussy. Her eyes are both squeezed shut and rolled so far up into her skull that if they were open, she wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway.

She’s not really aware of anything after. She focuses on breathing, releasing her clenched muscles one by one. When she has recovered enough to open her eyes, she finds that Bellamy has already untied her arms and rolled her onto her side, spooning her. His cock is half hard still – or again? – and rubbing against her stinging ass cheeks.

“Thawasme,” she mumbles. “Thankda’yyy.”

Bellamy chuckles softly into her hair, slowly stroking her belly with one hand. “You came so fucking hard, Clarke.”

“You made me,” she responds, regaining her coherence slowly. “Mhm…”

* * *

Bellamy finds her in the kitchen the next morning, sitting at the little table, staring out of the window. Her phone is sitting on the table, screen down. He gently clasps her shoulder.

“Who was it?”

She swallows. “My stepdad.”

“Did…”

Clarke nods. “Shithead leaked stuff to a blog. Pictures mostly, and the link to my profile.” Bellamy squeezes her shoulder. “I gave Marcus his name. Let him do whatever he wants with it. I don’t give a flying fuck anymore.”

“Clarke…”

She turns to look at him. “No. I refuse to give a fuck about what this asshole does. I meant what I said to him.” She gets up, pushing the chair back, and locks her eyes onto his. “I refuse to be ashamed for what makes me happy, Bellamy. Camming has been part of that. That’s… that’s why I didn’t delete everything. I’m not sure I wanna go back to it, but I’m also not sure I don’t, you know?”

He nods slowly. “Whatever makes you happy, Clarke. I get that, believe me. I’m… just not as far along on that realization as you are.”

She smiles. “Right now, though, what makes me most happy is you, Bellamy. You, and what you do to me. The way you make me feel…”

He smiles back, his eyes asking a silent question as he blindly finds her hand with his, lacing their fingers together. She blinks once, slowly, and his smile grows wider.

“I love you, too, Clarke,” he says. “God, I’m still not sure how I can ever deserve you, but I love you. So fucking much.”

A water laugh bubbles out of her throat and she throws herself into his arms, squeezing him as hard as she can. “That’s how,” she tells his chest. “Just… love me. That’s all I’m asking, Bellamy.”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I can do that, Clarke. I can do that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been kind of a wild ride for me. Thank you to everyone who's been along for it.
> 
> And a special thank you to @arysa13 for encouraging me the whole way, giving me a second opinion, and just generally being awesome :).

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how I said I would clean this up and post it? Took me a while, didn't it? Oh well.
> 
> I have a plan to continue this, as the chapter count indicates. No schedule, though. It'll come in its own time.


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